David: Did you know that Kathleen got married to that guy from Savage Garden and left in 2006?
Me: She did? No wonder I saw a new girl, Sun, the other day. I didn't like her too much.
David: Oh, and apparently Tim got in a motorcycle accident
Me: Oh, what happened? Let me google it.
No, we weren't talking about cast members of our favorite soap (I think the last time David or I followed the soaps with any regularity was when John Stamos and Demi Moore were in General Hospital. Ok, that just gave away how old we are.).
We were talking about cast members of Charly's beloved show "Hi-5", the Australian children's pop group that had her singing and dancing even before she could walk.
As I googled what's happened with Charly's favorite Hi-5 members (hey, she even mentions Kathlene, Nathan, Kellie, Charli, and Tim in her evening prayer lineup!), I got another one of those OMG, I'm such a mommy moments.
I was googling celebrities.
While I admit to watching the occasional ET weekly and going through People magazine during mani-pedi sessions at Dashing Diva, the last time I actively sought out updates on celebrities was during my Tiger Beat years. Those were the days when Rob Lowe (before the sex scandal) and Andrew McCarthy updates were enough reason for me and my girlfriends to meet up. Common crushes were definitely reasons for girl bonding ( I actually hear that grown women these days still meet up to talk about their favorite Korean pop stars, what's up with that.) I just thought those years were gone.
However, now when we meet other parents who seem to know one Hi-Five video from another, it's like meeting someone who knows a common secret handshake. Almost like an I know you. And if they know the words to the songs in Hi-5 Hits, well then I REALLY want to bond with them and get the kids together for a playdate. Maybe even swap some CDs.
I'm learning that this parenthood thing is like a brotherhood (or sisterhood) in many, many ways.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
It Wasn't Happening
David and I have always been Shyamalan fans, so when we got a copy of "The Happening", we eagerly prepped ourselves for a chilling good time. We even made sure Charly wasn't around to see anything visually gruesome.
Sadly, the only thing that was happening about the movie was its title (yeah, pun).
The message, though grounded on shaky premises, was interesting enough, but the acting was painful. I almost wanted Mark Wahlberg to die.
Maybe that's why John Leguizamo slashed his wrists in the first half of the movie because he saw how bad things were going and no longer wanted any part of it.
This is one script that should have been left alone.
Sadly, the only thing that was happening about the movie was its title (yeah, pun).
The message, though grounded on shaky premises, was interesting enough, but the acting was painful. I almost wanted Mark Wahlberg to die.
Maybe that's why John Leguizamo slashed his wrists in the first half of the movie because he saw how bad things were going and no longer wanted any part of it.
This is one script that should have been left alone.
Monday, July 28, 2008
I have this theory that the number of times a toddler says "NO" from 2-4 years of age will nowhere go near the amount of times she will utter that word for the remainder of her life.
Well, maybe if she lives to be 107 years old like my grandfather, but that's still debatable.
These days, Charly is asserting her independence so much that David and I have barely finished our questions and she's already shooting back a "NO".
On days when her sense of humor is up, she will even do a little dance, singing "No, no, no-no-no...." to the tune of Chaka Khan's "whoa, whoa, wo-wo-woah..." refrain from "I'm Every Woman" (yes, I plead guilty, I taught her that refrain while watching 'Bridget Jones' for the nth time).
We so want her to say "YES". Life would be so much easier. Maybe we would even get to places on time.
Ironically, I know the tables will be turned on us when she hits puberty. Then, David and I will be telling her it's alright to say "NO". No to drugs, no to alcohol, no to sex, no to playing hooky from classes...you get the picture.
Why can't kids just be cooperative and do what we want. OMG, I sound like my mother.
Excuse me while I check my head for graying hair.charl
Well, maybe if she lives to be 107 years old like my grandfather, but that's still debatable.
These days, Charly is asserting her independence so much that David and I have barely finished our questions and she's already shooting back a "NO".
On days when her sense of humor is up, she will even do a little dance, singing "No, no, no-no-no...." to the tune of Chaka Khan's "whoa, whoa, wo-wo-woah..." refrain from "I'm Every Woman" (yes, I plead guilty, I taught her that refrain while watching 'Bridget Jones' for the nth time).
We so want her to say "YES". Life would be so much easier. Maybe we would even get to places on time.
Ironically, I know the tables will be turned on us when she hits puberty. Then, David and I will be telling her it's alright to say "NO". No to drugs, no to alcohol, no to sex, no to playing hooky from classes...you get the picture.
Why can't kids just be cooperative and do what we want. OMG, I sound like my mother.
Excuse me while I check my head for graying hair.charl
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Dark Knight
Ok, I have to put it out here that I loved, loved, loved The Dark Knight.
Thanks to our no-nanny state since late last year, David and I have managed not to step foot inside a movie theater for the first half of 2008. This is a feat considering that we used to watch practically every movie that came out in either Powerplant or Greenbelt 3.
Anyway.
When Dark Knight came out, we bundled Charly off and left her with my folks.
It was totally worth it. I have to say that this is the best Batman film ever. Only a genius like Chris Nolan (and an even better actor like Heath Ledger) could pull of turning Batman into practically a sidekick of the Joker. I've seriously never liked a villain so much. Incredible acting.
And the reviews were right. It was totally chilling how the Joker tells Batman, "we'll be doing this forever". How we wish.
Heath, wherever you are, fist to the heart, man. We loved you in this one. You sure went out in a fireball of glory.
Just one teeny complaint. Christian Bale fills Bruce Wayne's shoes perfectly. But why does the voice of Batman sound like a raspy, tech-ed up version of Clint Eastwood? And why does Gotham look more like downtown Chicago than Manhattan?
Nevertheless, it was still an amazing ride, thanks to the Joker.
I'm going out and getting myself a DVD copy (original!) for Charly to watch when she grows up.
Thanks to our no-nanny state since late last year, David and I have managed not to step foot inside a movie theater for the first half of 2008. This is a feat considering that we used to watch practically every movie that came out in either Powerplant or Greenbelt 3.
Anyway.
When Dark Knight came out, we bundled Charly off and left her with my folks.
It was totally worth it. I have to say that this is the best Batman film ever. Only a genius like Chris Nolan (and an even better actor like Heath Ledger) could pull of turning Batman into practically a sidekick of the Joker. I've seriously never liked a villain so much. Incredible acting.
And the reviews were right. It was totally chilling how the Joker tells Batman, "we'll be doing this forever". How we wish.
Heath, wherever you are, fist to the heart, man. We loved you in this one. You sure went out in a fireball of glory.
Just one teeny complaint. Christian Bale fills Bruce Wayne's shoes perfectly. But why does the voice of Batman sound like a raspy, tech-ed up version of Clint Eastwood? And why does Gotham look more like downtown Chicago than Manhattan?
Nevertheless, it was still an amazing ride, thanks to the Joker.
I'm going out and getting myself a DVD copy (original!) for Charly to watch when she grows up.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Head, shoulders, knees and toes...
After a child learns to identify their head, shoulders, knees, and toes...what next?
Well of course their curiosity progresses to other body parts.
Charly now knows that girls have vaginas and boys have penises. Yes, we refused to succumb to calling it pee-pee or wee-wee or some other name that may lead to confusion.
She now proudly tells my mom over the phone that Pepe and Riggs have penises. And, like most kids her age are wont to do, repeats it over and over just to make sure her listener got what she was saying the first time around.
Charly: Pepe has penis, penis, penis.
My mom: What?
Me: She's just saying her dog has a penis.
My mom: Why does she need to say that?
Me: I don't know. Why do kids say anything really? Maybe in case we didn't notice?
Is this listed as an official milestone in the baby books?
Well of course their curiosity progresses to other body parts.
Charly now knows that girls have vaginas and boys have penises. Yes, we refused to succumb to calling it pee-pee or wee-wee or some other name that may lead to confusion.
She now proudly tells my mom over the phone that Pepe and Riggs have penises. And, like most kids her age are wont to do, repeats it over and over just to make sure her listener got what she was saying the first time around.
Charly: Pepe has penis, penis, penis.
My mom: What?
Me: She's just saying her dog has a penis.
My mom: Why does she need to say that?
Me: I don't know. Why do kids say anything really? Maybe in case we didn't notice?
Is this listed as an official milestone in the baby books?
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Mommy Migraine
"What's the best way to get rid of a mommy migraine?"
"Follow the instructions on a Tylenol bottle. Take two and keep away from children"
Funny, yet so true.
Show me a mom of a toddler who doesn't know what I mean, and I'll show you a mom who is so hands-off she likely doesn't know her own child.
Here's the thing about toddlerhood. There are so many adorable aspects about them. The way their little bodies are so warm and cuddly with feet that look like little porkchops. The way they throw themselves so completely into things. The way they tell you exactly what they're feeling, when they're feeling it - no holding back of emotions here ("i WUV you, mom!" yes sometimes even while you're holding their hands while sitting at the potty, waiting for the poo to come out. Theirs, not yours.). How they can pick out the most atrocious color combinations and manage to still make clothes look cute on them. How they actually stop crying and give you a huge smile when you plant a little kiss on their boo-boos. How, even if you're gone for just a few hours, they come running towards you and give you big hugs like they haven't seen you in ages. How they can look like the happiest little things on earth, just by you reading them a bedtime story.
The flipside? They run on their own schedule (the hairs on the back of my neck stand up just looking at the clock turn 1:00pm, Charly's nap time when she begins to morph into stressed-and-sleepy-toddler-who-doesn't-want-to-go-to-bed. I kid you not, there have been days when I have bundled her into the car and strapped her in the car seat to go for a ride, the surefire way to get her to sleep right away). They are like little neanderthals when it comes to feelings (yes, the same spontaneity which makes them throw chubby arms around you and say "i WUV you, mom" is the same spontaneity that makes them throw things on the floor when they get frustrated and can't explain what they want or as Mr. Rogers says "they don't know what to do with the 'mad' that they feel"). The upside is that they have the attention span of a flea (if they fixate on something, so long as mommy is creative enough to distract them, the tantrums can stop justlikethat) . The way they manage to come up with a toddler crisis just as you are running late and trying to get out that door (yes, it has driven me to tears of frustration that I have been late several times although I started getting ready three hours earlier because Charly has either decided she wants to go potty just as I head out the door, or she has rolled around with the dogs and managed to look all grubby and dirty or has decided she doesn't want to go and stays stubbornly glued to her books...the list of reasons are endless).
Mother Nature was wise to hand out our kids in little infant forms. If she'd plopped down toddlers on us, without giving us time to bond with them first, there probably wouldn't be so many takers.
I think I'll pop two more Tylenol. The little one just woke up.
"Follow the instructions on a Tylenol bottle. Take two and keep away from children"
Funny, yet so true.
Show me a mom of a toddler who doesn't know what I mean, and I'll show you a mom who is so hands-off she likely doesn't know her own child.
Here's the thing about toddlerhood. There are so many adorable aspects about them. The way their little bodies are so warm and cuddly with feet that look like little porkchops. The way they throw themselves so completely into things. The way they tell you exactly what they're feeling, when they're feeling it - no holding back of emotions here ("i WUV you, mom!" yes sometimes even while you're holding their hands while sitting at the potty, waiting for the poo to come out. Theirs, not yours.). How they can pick out the most atrocious color combinations and manage to still make clothes look cute on them. How they actually stop crying and give you a huge smile when you plant a little kiss on their boo-boos. How, even if you're gone for just a few hours, they come running towards you and give you big hugs like they haven't seen you in ages. How they can look like the happiest little things on earth, just by you reading them a bedtime story.
The flipside? They run on their own schedule (the hairs on the back of my neck stand up just looking at the clock turn 1:00pm, Charly's nap time when she begins to morph into stressed-and-sleepy-toddler-who-doesn't-want-to-go-to-bed. I kid you not, there have been days when I have bundled her into the car and strapped her in the car seat to go for a ride, the surefire way to get her to sleep right away). They are like little neanderthals when it comes to feelings (yes, the same spontaneity which makes them throw chubby arms around you and say "i WUV you, mom" is the same spontaneity that makes them throw things on the floor when they get frustrated and can't explain what they want or as Mr. Rogers says "they don't know what to do with the 'mad' that they feel"). The upside is that they have the attention span of a flea (if they fixate on something, so long as mommy is creative enough to distract them, the tantrums can stop justlikethat) . The way they manage to come up with a toddler crisis just as you are running late and trying to get out that door (yes, it has driven me to tears of frustration that I have been late several times although I started getting ready three hours earlier because Charly has either decided she wants to go potty just as I head out the door, or she has rolled around with the dogs and managed to look all grubby and dirty or has decided she doesn't want to go and stays stubbornly glued to her books...the list of reasons are endless).
Mother Nature was wise to hand out our kids in little infant forms. If she'd plopped down toddlers on us, without giving us time to bond with them first, there probably wouldn't be so many takers.
I think I'll pop two more Tylenol. The little one just woke up.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
I Miss You
It still amazes me how fast toddlers develop. Every day, you get something new out of the little dynamos.
Charly's latest thing, when she sees my mom and dad, is to run to them with open arms and say "I missed you, I missed you".
I was very glad to be around when she first said this phrase, but even more glad that she was not saying it to me.
Because now, I am around her most of the time. And the few times that she does say "I missed you" is only when I have been away a couple of hours to work on some projects. I know that she says it then only out of affection, more than actually missing me a great deal.
I look back and think about how I would have felt if I was still working long hours at the office only to come home to Charly saying "I missed you". It would have poked a hole right through my heart.
More and more, every day, I know I made the right decision in choosing family over career at this point in Charly's life.
Charly's latest thing, when she sees my mom and dad, is to run to them with open arms and say "I missed you, I missed you".
I was very glad to be around when she first said this phrase, but even more glad that she was not saying it to me.
Because now, I am around her most of the time. And the few times that she does say "I missed you" is only when I have been away a couple of hours to work on some projects. I know that she says it then only out of affection, more than actually missing me a great deal.
I look back and think about how I would have felt if I was still working long hours at the office only to come home to Charly saying "I missed you". It would have poked a hole right through my heart.
More and more, every day, I know I made the right decision in choosing family over career at this point in Charly's life.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Mamma Mia!
Funny how the same movie, seen at different stages in your life, can affect you in two completely different ways.
When I saw Mamma Mia! on stage in London in 2002, I remember dancing in the aisle to 'Dancing Queen'. Great fun! I remember thinking I must book that ticket to the Greek islands that I had always planned with my girl friends.
Last night, I saw Mamma Mia, the movie, I still had fun, Pierce Brosnan's terrible singing voice notwithstanding. But more than wanting to get up and dance to 'Dancing Queen', much to my chagrin, I got teary-eyed when Meryll Streep sang 'slipping through my fingers' as she prepared her daughter for her wedding.
Damnit. I hate being 'such a woman'. I thought those teary-eyed moments ended when the baby was born and the pregnancy hormones let up.
I was wrong, though. Those moments were just the beginning. As my little baby has moved into toddlerhood and now looks more like a little kid than the toddler she still is, I really realize that motherhood is a series of celebrations and goodbyes. Of holding on tight, and letting go.
When she was a little baby, I used to dream of the day she would hold her head up. All too soon, she did. Just as I was enjoying having a little doll of a baby just bouncing on my lap, she started crawling and wanting to be free. Although her lower lip still quivers at times when I say goodbye, there are also just as many moments when she tucks her wubbie and favorite little pink bag under her arms and confidently waves, "bye mom!" as she goes off with other relatives. She runs head on into pet shops now, not even looking back to see if I am following behind. Her love, which used to be focused solely on David and me, is now getting spread around. It's not that she loves us less, it's that she has more and more to give.
Everyday is full of new milestones, and of saying goodbye to the stages gone past. Stages that she will never be at again. A little reminder that I had better enjoy what I have right here, right now, rather than worry about the future, for this moment will never come back again.
I can only take a deep breath, pray, and enjoy the ride, keeping in mind that this parenthood thing is all about the journey, not the destination.
When I saw Mamma Mia! on stage in London in 2002, I remember dancing in the aisle to 'Dancing Queen'. Great fun! I remember thinking I must book that ticket to the Greek islands that I had always planned with my girl friends.
Last night, I saw Mamma Mia, the movie, I still had fun, Pierce Brosnan's terrible singing voice notwithstanding. But more than wanting to get up and dance to 'Dancing Queen', much to my chagrin, I got teary-eyed when Meryll Streep sang 'slipping through my fingers' as she prepared her daughter for her wedding.
Damnit. I hate being 'such a woman'. I thought those teary-eyed moments ended when the baby was born and the pregnancy hormones let up.
I was wrong, though. Those moments were just the beginning. As my little baby has moved into toddlerhood and now looks more like a little kid than the toddler she still is, I really realize that motherhood is a series of celebrations and goodbyes. Of holding on tight, and letting go.
When she was a little baby, I used to dream of the day she would hold her head up. All too soon, she did. Just as I was enjoying having a little doll of a baby just bouncing on my lap, she started crawling and wanting to be free. Although her lower lip still quivers at times when I say goodbye, there are also just as many moments when she tucks her wubbie and favorite little pink bag under her arms and confidently waves, "bye mom!" as she goes off with other relatives. She runs head on into pet shops now, not even looking back to see if I am following behind. Her love, which used to be focused solely on David and me, is now getting spread around. It's not that she loves us less, it's that she has more and more to give.
Everyday is full of new milestones, and of saying goodbye to the stages gone past. Stages that she will never be at again. A little reminder that I had better enjoy what I have right here, right now, rather than worry about the future, for this moment will never come back again.
I can only take a deep breath, pray, and enjoy the ride, keeping in mind that this parenthood thing is all about the journey, not the destination.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
An Unlisted Milestone
While running across the mall to meet my mom this afternoon, Charly stopped and pointed to an aqua blue t-shirt with KungFu Panda on it. She dragged me into the store, stopping only at the display rack.
"Mom, please pay. Please pay." This was said with big wide eyes, and the cutest smile.
"You want this?" I asked her.
"Please pay. Want to wear now" and she actually started taking off the t-shirt she was wearing.
Finding this very cute, the first time she has ever spotted an article of clothing and specifically asked me to buy it for her, I paid for the t-shirt and let her wear it.
A milestone, I thought to myself. Although not one officially listed in the baby books.
And then it hit me.
Just two years old, and she's already joined the ranks of female shoppers.
"Mom, please pay. Please pay." This was said with big wide eyes, and the cutest smile.
"You want this?" I asked her.
"Please pay. Want to wear now" and she actually started taking off the t-shirt she was wearing.
Finding this very cute, the first time she has ever spotted an article of clothing and specifically asked me to buy it for her, I paid for the t-shirt and let her wear it.
A milestone, I thought to myself. Although not one officially listed in the baby books.
And then it hit me.
Just two years old, and she's already joined the ranks of female shoppers.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Generation Gap
One of my godsons is at that age where they like to repeat the same thing over and over and over again.
After listening to him repeat something for what seemed like the 27th time, I sighed, "you sound like a broken record."
The little guy stopped mid-sentence, "Tita, what's a record?"
It hit me then that, having been born in a generation of CDs and DVDs, he had no idea what a record is.
"It's like a CD, honey. Only bigger."
To which he replied with all the authority of a 4 year old, "Why didn't you just say CD, then? My CDs keep repeating themselves once they get all scratched."
Why indeed.
Now even our favorite expressions need an upgrade. Someone get on that, please.
After listening to him repeat something for what seemed like the 27th time, I sighed, "you sound like a broken record."
The little guy stopped mid-sentence, "Tita, what's a record?"
It hit me then that, having been born in a generation of CDs and DVDs, he had no idea what a record is.
"It's like a CD, honey. Only bigger."
To which he replied with all the authority of a 4 year old, "Why didn't you just say CD, then? My CDs keep repeating themselves once they get all scratched."
Why indeed.
Now even our favorite expressions need an upgrade. Someone get on that, please.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
My day so far...
I was going to write about toilet paper in our fish tank, scratches across my beloved bookshelf, and almost hurting my already-injured hip sliding across doggie drool on the floor.And that was just this morning.
Deep breaths, deep breaths.
Just as I was about to start talking to Charly like the adult she isn't ("Why would you do that???" and all other such questions that I have no business posing to a toddler since I imagine if she did answer me logically, " Why, mom, I believe I did that because I needed an outlet for my frustration over not being able to catch the fish", I would actually run screaming for surely an alien had taken over her body)... I stumbled upon this cartoon online.
Truly worth a thousand words.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Not So Kiddie Prices
It's great how they now have kids' versions of just about everything from yoga pants from Gap to cute little Converse sneakers.
Now, kids can look just as cool as their parents (I imagine when I hit midlife, it will then be the reverse and I will be wanting to look as cool as my kids, but let's save that for another post!).
When I saw the adorable little Crocs out in the market, I jumped to get Charly one in the exact same style as the ones I have (not the same color, that would be too cheesy).
Now, it's one thing to drop $30-40 on a pair of casual shoes that you may wear a year or two. Quite another if the little owner outgrows them in a couple months.
Why are those little Crocs (and those little yoga pants and little sneakers, and come to think of it, practically everything that are mini versions of cool stuff that adults wear) priced practically the same as the adult version? They most likely come out of a mold created for each size, and they require less material to make...is it that there are special little people who have higher wages making them?
No, most likely it's a scheme from the marketing guys.
They've gotten into our heads and know that parents are willing to drop a ridiculous amount of money to make our kids look cool.
Now, kids can look just as cool as their parents (I imagine when I hit midlife, it will then be the reverse and I will be wanting to look as cool as my kids, but let's save that for another post!).
When I saw the adorable little Crocs out in the market, I jumped to get Charly one in the exact same style as the ones I have (not the same color, that would be too cheesy).
Now, it's one thing to drop $30-40 on a pair of casual shoes that you may wear a year or two. Quite another if the little owner outgrows them in a couple months.
Why are those little Crocs (and those little yoga pants and little sneakers, and come to think of it, practically everything that are mini versions of cool stuff that adults wear) priced practically the same as the adult version? They most likely come out of a mold created for each size, and they require less material to make...is it that there are special little people who have higher wages making them?
No, most likely it's a scheme from the marketing guys.
They've gotten into our heads and know that parents are willing to drop a ridiculous amount of money to make our kids look cool.
That "Stateside" Scent
I used to work in fragrancing so I know my top notes from my bottom notes. I also know that the most loved scents are the ones you can't capture in a can or a bottle.
The smell of new books. A newborn baby. A new car. That indescribable mix of sun, seaspray, sand and suntan oil that screams "beach".
And one of my personal favorites, the smell when you open your luggage after a trip from the States. Yes, it even comes from 'balikbayan' boxes.
David is American so I had some trouble explaining this to him in the beginning. Now that he has been in Manila for over 4 years, his nose has gotten acclimated to Manila pollution and is better able to discern that fresh air from the USA that manages to sneak in enclosed luggage spaces and 'balikbayan' boxes.
Now, when his mom sends 'balikbayan' boxes filled with goodies for Charly, we all gather around for the 'grand opening' and collectively get a whiff of that 'stateside' scent.
Ahh. Now if only we could bottle that scent and sell it.
The smell of new books. A newborn baby. A new car. That indescribable mix of sun, seaspray, sand and suntan oil that screams "beach".
And one of my personal favorites, the smell when you open your luggage after a trip from the States. Yes, it even comes from 'balikbayan' boxes.
David is American so I had some trouble explaining this to him in the beginning. Now that he has been in Manila for over 4 years, his nose has gotten acclimated to Manila pollution and is better able to discern that fresh air from the USA that manages to sneak in enclosed luggage spaces and 'balikbayan' boxes.
Now, when his mom sends 'balikbayan' boxes filled with goodies for Charly, we all gather around for the 'grand opening' and collectively get a whiff of that 'stateside' scent.
Ahh. Now if only we could bottle that scent and sell it.
Best Friends
When I was single, I used to scoff at Barney. And when Charly was born, I told David that there was no way we would turn into parents who would sing along with a crazy purple dinosaur who looked like a lump of clay.
Then one day Charly grabbed my legs, and hugging me to her, sang "I love you, you love me. We're best friends like friends should be, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you, won't you say you love me too?"
She placed an emphasis on the "We're best friends" part as she hugged my legs. Hit me straight in the heart.
From that day on, I've been a fan.
Barney, I love you.
Then one day Charly grabbed my legs, and hugging me to her, sang "I love you, you love me. We're best friends like friends should be, with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you, won't you say you love me too?"
She placed an emphasis on the "We're best friends" part as she hugged my legs. Hit me straight in the heart.
From that day on, I've been a fan.
Barney, I love you.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
A Rat No More
After 13 years in marketing, I am officially saying goodbye to being a full-time corporate citizen today.
It's a first for me. After getting my MBM degree from AIM, I went straight into Selecta, then I took my post-graduate executive education certificates from the Wharton Business School and Columbia University. Brand management posts in Colgate-Palmolive, S.C.Johnson & Son, Kimberly-Clark and Nestle all followed in back-to-back succession.
But something happened to me 2 years ago that made me re-evaluate my priorities. Charly was born.
All of a sudden, the late nights at work meant time away from my young family. It was manageable in the first year. It got harder as she developed her own unique personality and I noticed her character, sense of humor, intelligence, and independence developing at warp-speed.
In the past, staying at the office until midnight simply meant I would end up missing a pilates class or not going to that much-awaited movie premier. Now, it means missing out on milestones. The first time Charly spoke her first full sentence. The first time she sang the 'itsy bitsy spider' all on her own. Not being there to give her a hug of pride the first time she asked to go to the potty all on her own. Failing to tuck her in bed at night while saying her evening prayers. Not having enough time to spend with the hubby, catching up on each other's lives.
In a nutshell, it meant that I was spending more time growing someone else's business than developing my baby's heart and mind. It meant I was spending more time on understanding how consumers relate to my brands than how I could better relate to my family.
It meant missing so many opportunities when I could show her right from wrong, boost her confidence by giving her big hugs. Wipe the tears brought about by the latest boo boo.
Several studies have shown that a child's intelligence and social skills are cemented within the first 4-6 years of life. That means that what I do for Charly now will set her up with a good start for the rest of her life. Those 4-6 years have a high possibility of doing a lifetime of good for my little one.
Do I spend the next few years focusing on work, work, work and miss out on my child's critical years.
It was a no brainer. Still, it was a difficult decision to make. Work has always been a huge part of my life. Slowing down would also mean a bit of a lifestyle change and adjusting to a smaller income.
But sometimes the universe gives you a big club over the head when you just don't get it. For me, it all came to a head last month when I realized that there were weeks when the only time I would see Charly awake during the weekdays was when David would bring her over and meet me at lunchtime for a quick lunch and baby bonding session.
I knew then that something had to give.
I'm not saying I will start wearing frilly aprons and baking my own bread (although I do make a mean meatloaf from scratch and have a favorite Dean & DeLuca apron!). Thanks to friends in advertising, I am still able to nurture my creative side by working freelance on design projects and conceptualizing events and writing on the side (hey, throw some work my way in a few months!) as well as helping out with the family business. I may even eventually take on a job that won't command 12-15 hours a day of work, once Charly is in school. But I have made a decision that I won't let my profession get in the way of family. Charly will have her mommy when she needs her. The hubby will have a wife who is not so frazzled with work, and whose mobile phone does not beep even as they enjoy the sunset off the Angkor Wat on their vacation.
I'm not saying that women who choose to balance career and child-rearing are in the wrong. Some of my mommy idols are women who excel in their career and still manage to raise children who win spelling bees and athletic meets. I'm just saying that for me, it wasn't a good, comfortable fit. The tug of war between demands of career and family that surely plague every working-mom pulled at my heartstrings a little too much for comfort.
A senior executive at the office gave me the most heartwarming and inspiring advice a new mom contemplating on a career hiatus could receive. She shared with me that, at the height of her career, she too had taken a hiatus to spend time with her children. Years later, and now back in the corporate world, she is still at the peak of her game and so are her children in theirs. She said that if you work hard enough, you could manage to pick up where you left off in your career. But miss out on those critical years, and you can never make that up to your children.
One of my favorite writers, Anna Quindlen, advices us in "A Short Guide to A Happy Life" never to confuse your life and your work. The second is only a part of the first.
I've never forgotten the classic saying "No man on his deathbed ever said 'I wish I had spent more time at the office'."
One of my favorite coffee mugs shows a mouse saying "If you win the rat race, you're still a rat."
And of course, the great John Lennon wrote, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."
So, from today onwards, the corporate world will have to take a backseat. It's family first for me now.
It's a first for me. After getting my MBM degree from AIM, I went straight into Selecta, then I took my post-graduate executive education certificates from the Wharton Business School and Columbia University. Brand management posts in Colgate-Palmolive, S.C.Johnson & Son, Kimberly-Clark and Nestle all followed in back-to-back succession.
But something happened to me 2 years ago that made me re-evaluate my priorities. Charly was born.
All of a sudden, the late nights at work meant time away from my young family. It was manageable in the first year. It got harder as she developed her own unique personality and I noticed her character, sense of humor, intelligence, and independence developing at warp-speed.
In the past, staying at the office until midnight simply meant I would end up missing a pilates class or not going to that much-awaited movie premier. Now, it means missing out on milestones. The first time Charly spoke her first full sentence. The first time she sang the 'itsy bitsy spider' all on her own. Not being there to give her a hug of pride the first time she asked to go to the potty all on her own. Failing to tuck her in bed at night while saying her evening prayers. Not having enough time to spend with the hubby, catching up on each other's lives.
In a nutshell, it meant that I was spending more time growing someone else's business than developing my baby's heart and mind. It meant I was spending more time on understanding how consumers relate to my brands than how I could better relate to my family.
It meant missing so many opportunities when I could show her right from wrong, boost her confidence by giving her big hugs. Wipe the tears brought about by the latest boo boo.
Several studies have shown that a child's intelligence and social skills are cemented within the first 4-6 years of life. That means that what I do for Charly now will set her up with a good start for the rest of her life. Those 4-6 years have a high possibility of doing a lifetime of good for my little one.
Do I spend the next few years focusing on work, work, work and miss out on my child's critical years.
It was a no brainer. Still, it was a difficult decision to make. Work has always been a huge part of my life. Slowing down would also mean a bit of a lifestyle change and adjusting to a smaller income.
But sometimes the universe gives you a big club over the head when you just don't get it. For me, it all came to a head last month when I realized that there were weeks when the only time I would see Charly awake during the weekdays was when David would bring her over and meet me at lunchtime for a quick lunch and baby bonding session.
I knew then that something had to give.
I'm not saying I will start wearing frilly aprons and baking my own bread (although I do make a mean meatloaf from scratch and have a favorite Dean & DeLuca apron!). Thanks to friends in advertising, I am still able to nurture my creative side by working freelance on design projects and conceptualizing events and writing on the side (hey, throw some work my way in a few months!) as well as helping out with the family business. I may even eventually take on a job that won't command 12-15 hours a day of work, once Charly is in school. But I have made a decision that I won't let my profession get in the way of family. Charly will have her mommy when she needs her. The hubby will have a wife who is not so frazzled with work, and whose mobile phone does not beep even as they enjoy the sunset off the Angkor Wat on their vacation.
I'm not saying that women who choose to balance career and child-rearing are in the wrong. Some of my mommy idols are women who excel in their career and still manage to raise children who win spelling bees and athletic meets. I'm just saying that for me, it wasn't a good, comfortable fit. The tug of war between demands of career and family that surely plague every working-mom pulled at my heartstrings a little too much for comfort.
A senior executive at the office gave me the most heartwarming and inspiring advice a new mom contemplating on a career hiatus could receive. She shared with me that, at the height of her career, she too had taken a hiatus to spend time with her children. Years later, and now back in the corporate world, she is still at the peak of her game and so are her children in theirs. She said that if you work hard enough, you could manage to pick up where you left off in your career. But miss out on those critical years, and you can never make that up to your children.
One of my favorite writers, Anna Quindlen, advices us in "A Short Guide to A Happy Life" never to confuse your life and your work. The second is only a part of the first.
I've never forgotten the classic saying "No man on his deathbed ever said 'I wish I had spent more time at the office'."
One of my favorite coffee mugs shows a mouse saying "If you win the rat race, you're still a rat."
And of course, the great John Lennon wrote, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."
So, from today onwards, the corporate world will have to take a backseat. It's family first for me now.
Big 'ug
This morning, Charly woke me up with a big smile saying, "big 'ug, mom, big 'ug".
Through my bleary eyed daze, I realized she had her arms open wide. She wanted a big hug.
I gave her one and she settled in my arms comfortably and went back to sleep.
Ahh. Heaven on earth.
Mornings should all be so nice and warm and snuggly.
Through my bleary eyed daze, I realized she had her arms open wide. She wanted a big hug.
I gave her one and she settled in my arms comfortably and went back to sleep.
Ahh. Heaven on earth.
Mornings should all be so nice and warm and snuggly.
"Why don't you..."
I was lucky enough to be one of those rare women who didn't start 'showing' their pregnancies until practically the 8th month.
Meaning I had less than 4 weeks of unwanted attention. People patting your stomach (anyone ever heard of the word ' personal space'?), asking whether I was having a boy or a girl, and numerous unsolicited horror stories about childbirth that would have made Stephen King proud.
All this, however, did not prepare me for the barrage of well-meaning, but mostly ill-timed, advice that came in all forms from the mildly-irritating to the downright-lunatic.
If I'd been given $1 for every single time I heard "Why don't you...", I would be a rich woman now.
When David and I decided that Pepe and Riggs would sleep in the room with Charly, there were more raised eyebrows directed at me than I would have gotten wearing last season's Manolos at an art gallery opening in Chelsea. The dogs would bite her, she would bite the dogs (germs!), she would get all sorts of diseases, it was irresponsible....etc, etc, etc. The ones who stayed politely mum had such a huge thought bubble over their heads that I wanted to tell them to just come out and say it.
This was just the beginning of the barrage of comments and yes, even criticism, that I've discovered gets directed at you with all the subtlety of Typhoon Frank the moment you become a parent.
Why is it that the moment you have a child everyone thinks they know better than you? During the first quarter of Charly's life, I was told that the baby was too fat (where was her neck? wasn't she becoming a little too tubby?), her male-sounding name would give her a complex and cause gender-confusion, did we want a boy - was that why she was not in pink 24/7?, she needed socks the minute the temperature dropped below room temperature (try this on a baby who hated wearing socks and mittens)...and on and on it went. In my recovering-from-a-c-section haze, along with the pressure of planning the baptismal party in less than 3 weeks to the day we brought the baby home, I soon developed a way of zoning out (think of your favorite peaceful place and transport yourself there) which soon became a hardened mask to protect me from buckling under the weight of all the advice.
Two years later, I am still getting hit with it, but I've now developed a sense of humor (and this blog) to keep my wits about me.
I've learned that parenting is something which everyone will always have an opinion on. Best of all, I've learned to keep my mouth shut and not argue back and defend my parenting style. After all, Charly is healthy, happy, knows her Matisse from Van Gogh, her Gucci from Hermes, hiphop from jazz, and most of all, loves, loves, loves to read. Pepe and Riggs are her best friends and they have not bitten each other. Despite her guy-sounding name, she is a girly girl who says 'yuck' when handling wet clay. Yet she is also rugged enough to put on her favorite baseball cap backside forward.
The bottom line: we all know our children best. And because no two children are alike, you can only take what you think will work and screen out the rest. And pray, pray, pray.
Yes, I do give mommy advice, but only when asked or when comparing notes.
And yes, I do resist the urge to pat pregnant women's tummies and ask if it's a girl or boy.
Meaning I had less than 4 weeks of unwanted attention. People patting your stomach (anyone ever heard of the word ' personal space'?), asking whether I was having a boy or a girl, and numerous unsolicited horror stories about childbirth that would have made Stephen King proud.
All this, however, did not prepare me for the barrage of well-meaning, but mostly ill-timed, advice that came in all forms from the mildly-irritating to the downright-lunatic.
If I'd been given $1 for every single time I heard "Why don't you...", I would be a rich woman now.
When David and I decided that Pepe and Riggs would sleep in the room with Charly, there were more raised eyebrows directed at me than I would have gotten wearing last season's Manolos at an art gallery opening in Chelsea. The dogs would bite her, she would bite the dogs (germs!), she would get all sorts of diseases, it was irresponsible....etc, etc, etc. The ones who stayed politely mum had such a huge thought bubble over their heads that I wanted to tell them to just come out and say it.
This was just the beginning of the barrage of comments and yes, even criticism, that I've discovered gets directed at you with all the subtlety of Typhoon Frank the moment you become a parent.
Why is it that the moment you have a child everyone thinks they know better than you? During the first quarter of Charly's life, I was told that the baby was too fat (where was her neck? wasn't she becoming a little too tubby?), her male-sounding name would give her a complex and cause gender-confusion, did we want a boy - was that why she was not in pink 24/7?, she needed socks the minute the temperature dropped below room temperature (try this on a baby who hated wearing socks and mittens)...and on and on it went. In my recovering-from-a-c-section haze, along with the pressure of planning the baptismal party in less than 3 weeks to the day we brought the baby home, I soon developed a way of zoning out (think of your favorite peaceful place and transport yourself there) which soon became a hardened mask to protect me from buckling under the weight of all the advice.
Two years later, I am still getting hit with it, but I've now developed a sense of humor (and this blog) to keep my wits about me.
I've learned that parenting is something which everyone will always have an opinion on. Best of all, I've learned to keep my mouth shut and not argue back and defend my parenting style. After all, Charly is healthy, happy, knows her Matisse from Van Gogh, her Gucci from Hermes, hiphop from jazz, and most of all, loves, loves, loves to read. Pepe and Riggs are her best friends and they have not bitten each other. Despite her guy-sounding name, she is a girly girl who says 'yuck' when handling wet clay. Yet she is also rugged enough to put on her favorite baseball cap backside forward.
The bottom line: we all know our children best. And because no two children are alike, you can only take what you think will work and screen out the rest. And pray, pray, pray.
Yes, I do give mommy advice, but only when asked or when comparing notes.
And yes, I do resist the urge to pat pregnant women's tummies and ask if it's a girl or boy.
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